


Something to Hold

by growlery, Serene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Community: pod-together, Cover Art, F/F, Female Characters, Female Protagonist, Female Relationships, Female-Centric, Friendship/Love, Love, Podfic, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serene/pseuds/Serene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Epistolary romance between Luna and Ginny, over the course of a few summers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something to Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Serene and Quintenttsy are partners in the Pod-together challenge. Serene is the writer and Quintenttsy is the reader/podficcer. They are made of awesome. This is Serene's first-ever piece of fanfic writing.

  
  
  
[MP3](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2013/Something%20to%20Hold-quintenttsy,%20serene.mp3) / [M4B](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2013/Something%20to%20Hold-quintenttsy,%20serene.m4b)

June 27, 1999  
Weasley Burrow 

Dear Luna, 

It was very good to hear from you. I hope this owl finds you well. Your fairywort hunt sounds exhausting and satisfying. I hope your father's fairywort stings heal quickly. 

Mother sends her love, and says to tell you to stop in if you are nearby during the summer break. I would love to see you, too. In fact, if you can make it Saturday next, I would love to invite you for tea. Mother and Father will be at the Greenferns' garden party. Ever since I accidentally turned the Greenferns' youngest into a salamander, I'm too shy to show my face there. It makes me happy, though, that Mother and Father are getting out some. Ever since Fred, they haven't been the same -- nor have any of us, of course -- and it's good to see them spending some time with their friends. 

I could write so much more about The Burrow in the summer, but I fear boring you. It would be good to see you before too long. I look forward to hearing more about your adventures in the fairywort groves.

Best, 

Ginny 

 

~*~*~*~

July 4, 1999  
The Burrow 

Dear Luna, 

Thank you so much for the lovely visit. The tea cakes you brought were delicious, and I shall save one for Charlie, as he will delight in their transformation to dragon shapes. 

Truly, it was so good to see you, my kind and genuine friend. With all we've been through, it delights me that we are able to be so comfortable and even silly with each other.

I still say that your face looks better pink than blue. 

I was thinking about what you said about how bravery is in the doing, not the feeling. Some time, when you get a chance, I recommend that you read The Witch in Winter, by Hannah Hucklefish. It is a little slow to begin, but once one is immersed in her world, Madame Hucklefish weaves such a tale of love and loyalty and heroism that I felt she had perhaps overcome dark times such as we have. I wish I had thought to send my copy home with you; I shall give it to you next time I see you, if you haven't gotten your own copy by then. 

All of this was swirling in my mind—Hucklefish and Hogwarts and bravery, and I wrote you this poem. I do hope you like it.

I shall quickly finish and seal this letter before I lose the nerve to send it to you. 

Again, thank you for the visit, and I do so look forward to seeing you again. 

Your friend, 

Ginny 

[Poem enclosed]

Wavering 

You stand on the edge of the bridge,  
at the heart of your own story,  
feet close together,  
eyes down.  
You are as close as you can be  
to the water  
without leaping out into  
the cold, expectant air. 

You waver, because saving the life you would save  
means leaping into the cold unknown,  
into action.  
So you waver, you falter, 

and then you dive. 

Your strong thighs propel you out  
into the clear sky of midsummer  
or the misty dawn of a February morning,  
or a dense, wet shawl of August air  
that begs for a breeze.  
You fly, bend, tense, flex, and cut the water  
with the knife of your own will.  
The cold of that lake  
stops your heart, restarts it again. 

In a half a moment,  
you forget what it took to get there. 

You wavered, and then you acted.  
Bravery is not in the feeling;  
it is in the doing,  
in the willingness to fling yourself  
out where you could drown. 

Being the hero of this story  
began in the wavering,  
and your bravery is not diminished  
by the fear that didn't stop you 

from leaping. 

~*~*~*~

July 8, 1999  
Lovegood House  
Ottery St.  
Catchpole 

Dear friend Ginny, 

I am speechless over your poem. Please know how much it means to me.

Immersed is such a good and true word. You are much better with words than I am. 

I devoured The Witch in Winter. That sounds like I should have a sick stomach now, doesn't it? 

The blackbonnets are in bloom, as are the crescentflowers, which are the colour of your hair. 

Until some time, 

Luna 

~*~*~*~

May 1, 2001  
The Burrow 

Dearest Luna, 

Thanks ever so for the bed of lizardblossoms. What a simply enchanting (and enchanted!) May Day gift. They run around the house in the daytime in such a joyful way, and then plant themselves in their flowerbeds in the evening. They are better trained than any flowers –or pets!–we have ever raised at the Burrow. Our neighbor, a former house-elf with the unfortunate name Tinkle, says that he knows how to teach them tricks. This should be interesting.

I really ought to have asked you this in person, but seeing as you are in France until at least next month, I shall risk it in writing: Would you do us the great favor of being Witch of Honor at our wedding? Harry and I have discussed it, and there is no one we would rather have. 

I am not sure you know how deeply you have entered my heart these past few years. I couldn't love any friend more, and I haven't any sisters, so you are the natural choice for the wedding, but more importantly, you are a natural fit in my soul. 

I await your reply, and I will certainly understand if you would prefer not to, but it would give me such joy if you were to say yes! 

Expectantly yours, 

Ginny Weasley, soon to be Potter! 

~*~*~*~  
June 21, 2001  
London 

Dearest Luna, 

Thank you so much for all you did to make the wedding wonderful, and for the goblets, which are so enchanting that we had to put them away to keep ourselves from spending all night staring at them. What are they made of, anyway? 

Once we're settled, you will have to come stay with us for the week-end. We have so much to talk about. 

All our love, 

Ginny and Harry 

~*~*~*~  
July 18, 2002  
Lovegood House  
Ottery St.  
Catchpole 

Dear Ginny, 

When I got your owl, I was astonished, but in such a good and happy way. You and Harry will be wonderful parents. I just know it.

You must come to see me while you still have time to get away. The second week in August, perhaps? I should be settled by then, and the feral dragons we have been bottle-feeding should have found new homes, as well. 

I have enclosed three stones to bring you and the baby good health and luck. Please align them in order of size -- or is it in order of colour? -- along a south-facing windowsill. 

See you soon, 

Luna 

~*~*~*~

August 20, 2002  
London 

Dearest Luna,  
If only I had not so stupidly visited you for the week-end, and instead had asked for a month or a year of your time. When I am in your woods with you, I feel as though the world fills with warmth and light, and when I leave, it is as if the sun has hidden behind the clouds. 

Just laughing and talking with you is a comfort to me in these difficult times. I am fortunate, I know that—I have my family, this flat, and you, but I feel that life has been full of so much worry for so many years that it was a balm to just relax and enjoy your company.

There is so much more I want to say, but it feels impossible to find the words. Perhaps I shall see you soon. I hope that I shall. 

With fond affection,

Ginny

~*~*~*~

September 20, 2002  
Lovegood House  
Ottery St.  
Catchpole 

Ginny,

I don't have the right words for things at the best of times, but I must try, because I will burst if I don't share my inner self with my dearest friend. 

Ginny, dear one, I miss you. Please come see me soon. I have made a magical thistledown cot for little James, and I think you will like what the autumn is doing to the wood. I have been writing more poems because of it; the colours and the breezes inspire me. I shall enclose one of my new poems. I wrote it while stuck in a tree that decided it wanted me to live in its branches. I have since convinced it that I shall visit it once a week for tea, and spend the occasional week-end.

Please do come. 

Luna

[Poem enclosed:]

Autumn

When leaves and wind and branches try  
to join to write a lullaby  
the autumn air fills with their song  
in hopes that you will sing along

They try to help you drift to sleep  
by singing songs they think will keep  
the monsters from your garden gate  
when evening shadows will not wait

The trees will whisper to the leaves  
the leaves will swing and tell the sky  
the birds of evening hush their songs  
to make way for the lullaby

The moments between now and when  
your brilliant eyes awake again  
will fill, they hope, with dreams that keep  
the bad thoughts from your peaceful sleep

I wish I were a twig, or no,  
a dewdrop on that lowest bough  
so when you woke, I'd touch your face  
and wake you to this loving place

For now, though, love, sleep well and dream  
things aren't as bad as they may seem  
the trees and I watch over you  
my love, my heart, my sky of blue

 

~*~*~*~

September 22, 2002  
London 

Luna,

I will come see you on Saturday. I miss you, too. 

Ginny

~*~*~*~

October 12, 2002  
London 

My Dearest Luna, 

Well, I did it. I told Harry about the stirring in my heart for you. Not directly at first, but with blushing and stammering and uncomfortable metaphors--you must ask me some time to share the one about cranberry scones versus popovers; I think it will make you shake your head at me. 

I was afraid to speak, at first. No, don't laugh. I am afraid sometimes. Bellatrix didn't frighten me, and I will cast a Bat-Bogey Hex on anyone who threatens what I love, but I was afraid. At any rate, eventually, I managed to sputter out my feelings for you, and I begged Harry to try to understand. Told him that I understood if he wanted nothing to do with me, but that I was falling in love with you, and needed for him to know. My cheeks must have been the colour of bats' blood. My knees felt like they were made of jelly. I didn't know what to do with my hands. 

He listened, and rocked back on his heels the way he does, not impatiently, but rhythmically, with contemplation, and then he smiled. And then he laughed. And then he exploded in laughter so loud I thought it would wake the baby. 

"You barmy woman," he bellowed, laughing so hard he could barely thrust the words from his throat. 

I was beside myself, so confused. I wanted to run -- to you, to nowhere, to the center of a pit somewhere only goblins could find me. 

"Do you think you're getting rid of me so easily? Have we only just met?" 

Luna, lovely Luna, he doesn't care! I mean to say, he cares. For you. For me. But he is nothing but happy in our love, and he hopes we will be even happier as our family expands to fit you into it. 

I am near to bursting with love for you, and for Harry, and for this baby, and for the whole beloved, bewildering world! Please write back quickly, and oh, how I hope you will be as overjoyed with this news as I am.

Love (love!),

Ginny  
~*~*~*~

October 14, 2002  
Lovegood House  
Ottery St.  
Catchpole 

Oh, Ginevra. Ginevra the Brave, and the Fortunate and the Beautiful. 

While I wandered today, walking through the wood revisiting the places we walked last Saturday, I saw you everywhere. You in the delicate, lacy caps of wild mushrooms. You in the bright colours of the lichen on the riverbed. Oh! And in non-fungal things, too! 

I admit I wondered if it had been our last walk together, our last dance, our last whispered confidence. I should have had more faith in your husband, and in you. 

By the way, I did laugh, but with love, not with mockery. Never with mockery. 

I am enclosing a poem I wrote for you, and a photo. I hope that having an image of me dancing will give you joy until we may meet again, which, once Father's face has stopped swelling from the blasted fairywort stings, will be very soon. 

I remain 

Yours, 

Luna 

[Poem enclosed:] 

Natural 

When we danced that night,  
clarified, percolated,  
too joyful for frenzy,  
too much in synch for dervishes,  
we held starlight within us  
and witchy magic  
and the colour of every love  
that ever forced  
this earth to tremble  
and the path of history to bend 

I bend to my work,  
cut down impediments in the  
rocky fields,  
clear the way through patches  
of mugwort and dandelions,  
make room in this gorgeous world  
for your peculiar beauty  
to tangle with mine  
as we twirl and gasp  
and breathe in the spores  
of the nature that knows  
that we are  
in love

**Author's Note:**

> Serene: Quintenttsy is an amazing partner for this kind of work. I was brand-new to this, and her enthusiasm and joy in the project was contagious. Thanks so much to everyone!


End file.
